Claimed by the Prince of Darkness

Chapter 142: Heirloom of the Dead

Past midnight, snow fell over Sexton, settling over the empty courtyards and the dark rows of windows. In her room, Ruelle sat on the floor beside a low-burning candle stand, the wooden box open in her lap as she stared down into the small mirror inside it.

There had once been a belief that the soulless and the dead cast no reflection. For a long time, people said it was true of vampires. But they carried reflections. She was not like them... was she? She had never craved blood.

Maybe she could compare the mirrors, she thought to herself.

So she emptied the contents of the box onto the floor and turned it over in her hands, tapping at the back in an attempt to loosen the mirror.

"A little early to be summoning ghosts," came Lucian’s voice. Ruelle looked up and found him standing at the door. At that same moment, the mirror slipped free and fell onto the floor. "Trying to wake the dead?" One of his eyebrows lifted slightly.

Ruelle watched him step into the room and close the door behind him. She raised the mirror so that it faced him. She asked, "What do you see?"

Lucian looked at her for a moment before his gaze shifted to the mirror.

"Nothing unusual. Just my reflection."

Ruelle’s stomach sank at his words. She replied, "Can your corruption know if something is wrong with someone?"

"If something were wrong with you, I would know," Lucian answered, making his way to her.

"But the mirror doesn’t show me. Not me, my hair or my clothes. Nothing," Ruelle shook her head in worry. She saw his hand reach towards her and she handed the mirror to him.

Lucian took the mirror from her and turned it slightly in the candlelight, his thumb running along the sharp edge of the glass as it didn’t look out of the ordinary. When he turned it over, he found two initials engraved into the back.

"M. D," he murmured.

the box had belonged to her mother after all. She wondered how she had come to

Lucian muttered under his breath. He then stated, "Mirrors have long been believed to be doors for the deceased. Maybe you

laugh escaped from Ruelle’s lips. She pointed, "I don’t have any abilities, Lucian. I am an

try." Lucian handed the mirror back to her, the look in his eyes patient as

nothing happened except her fingers pressing uselessly against

and the mirror fell from

began to move. Like liquid mercury, the shards slid across the floor toward one another, joining together until

A self-healing mirror...

mirror mend itself. He had never come across anything like this before. Only the dead cast no shadow and no reflection, yet Ruelle’s heart was beating steadily. She possessed no known ability, and if she did,

had emptied from the

up a clear glass vial to his eye level against the fire still burning

at the vial before asking, "For your engagement with

and knowledge, Ruelle stared at him before giving him a small

did not ask how he knew it, but she found herself wondering

terrible judgement when it comes to picking men for their daughters," Lucian said, picking up

said quietly, "Actually, he courted me for some time.

hand paused at

good thing for me." But two days later, the man who had once shown interest in her broke things off in a letter. When Lucian didn’t say anything and continued to inspect the vial, she bit her lower lip before letting it go.

was thinking that it might have been

didn’t know how to respond to that. She only lowered her eyes, but her heart had

Perfumes don’t last this long," Lucian said as he pulled the cork from the vial. When he brought it to his nose and inhaled, his movements froze. For a

"No?" Ruelle asked.

embarrassed for having used it as perfume, she picked up the other vial and brought it to her nose. The scent was still sweet and warm, faint but lingering. She had always thought that this

sirens do not cry. If one wished to collect it,